


Being Human

by Semira



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Tag, Episode: s14e01 Stranger in a Strange Land, Fix-It, Gen, Hurt Castiel, Hurt Jack Kline, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, POV Sam Winchester, Season/Series 14
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 19:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16270700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semira/pseuds/Semira
Summary: Sam finds Jack sitting on the floor behind one of the shelves in the library, head in his hands. “Hey,” he says, quiet.Jack jumps anyway, barely turns to face Sam before drawing his knees up tighter against himself and wrapping both arms around them, hiding his face. “I’m fine,” he says. “Just...”“I’m not,” Sam whispers. "It's okay if you're not, either."Jack’s hands loosen. His head rises. The look in his eyes (raw terror and confusion and self-loathing) is one Sam knows all too well.In other words...After the events of 14.01, Sam, exhausted and unable to sleep, has an honest talk with Jack about being human. Maybe it helps them both. Maybe there's something to thisfamilything, after all.Needless to say, spoilers abound. Proceed with caution.





	Being Human

Sam finds Jack sitting on the floor behind one of the shelves in the library, head in his hands and buried mostly in shadow, backlit by a distant light on the opposite wall.

Most everyone else has done the wise thing and gone off to sleep. Sam managed an hour or so—maybe—before an adrenaline spike tore him from sleep and he remembered Lucifer’s face and Dean’s disappearance and how he didn’t have  _time_ to rest if he could be  _doing something_...and here they are.

“Hey,” he says, quiet.

Jack jumps anyway, barely turns to face Sam before drawing his knees up tighter against himself and wrapping both arms around them, hiding his face. “I’m fine,” he says. “Just...”

“I’m not,” Sam whispers. "It's okay if you're not, either."

Jack’s hands loosen. His head rises. The look in his eyes (raw terror and confusion and self-loathing) is one Sam knows all too well.

Sam has plenty of years and injuries on his body (and plenty of bruises and aches from today alone, throbbing and knotted with his brief but inadequate rest), so maybe he isn't the epitome of grace when he lowers himself to the ground beside Jack. "May I?" he ventures.

Jack shrugs. "Whatever. I'm...Sam. I was bad, today. I thought I could—but I wasn't anything but a hindrance."

Sam inhales slowly, and lets it out all at once. "Yeah," he says.

Jack flinches, frowns.

"Hey, hey. No.  _Listen._ Jack, it's part of being human. It's the legacy your mother gave you, your compassion and your love and your _humanity_. But humans are also imperfect, and we learn by doing. Jack, you have the memories and experiences of someone much older, but you've barely been alive for a year. We don't want you to be perfect. We don't need you to be some—larger than life hero. I'm not going to say that your powers wouldn't be helpful now, because—" Sam swallows, shakes his head. Sleep-mussed hair falls into his eyes. "Because I want to find Dean. I want it bad, more than almost anything else I could ever want. I need him back. You don't have your Grace right now, but you're  _more_ than what you can do. We—I—all of us, Jack, we care about you. You know that, right?"

"It doesn't matter," Jack says. "I'm... I need to help."

"You will. You did. Jack, you haven't been learning for long, and we haven't always had a lot of time to teach you. You have all the stuff you need to be a hunter, Jack."

"I don't!" Jack makes as if to scramble to his feet, but gives up halfway and settles back down in a kneel, head hanging. It looks almost like prayer. He's closer to Sam, now, than he was before, by maybe an inch or two. Sam will take what he can get.

"You do."

Jack's head whips up, but whatever words he was going to say die on his lips when he meets Sam's eyes. He shakes his head, slow and tired.

"If you don't, neither do I."

"You  _dominated_ in there today, Sam. They all respected you. They—they _feared_ you, and listened to you. And I was—"

"Yeah, tell my body that. I can barely walk, Jack. I'm gonna be 90% black and blue tomorrow. We were all fighting for our lives in there. And... Jack, I've been fighting for  _years._ Decades. Non-stop, researching and searching and fighting and killing. You've been at it... on the human front... for a handful of days. And I saw you in there. Admittedly, not for long, because I was getting the shit kicked out of me. You looked awesome! Really limber. You have a talent for movement, and you're graceful. D...Dean and I, we, uh... We've sparred since we were kids. I know talent when I see it. Maybe you're not quite a full-fledged fighter yet, but you were cool today."

Sam's heart floods with joy when one side of Jack's mouth quirks up in a shy smile. "You think so?"

"Sure I do! C'mon, I'm getting old. I can't do that stuff anymore. You're gonna outlast us all. Be patient with yourself."

"I just..." 

Sam reaches out a hand, settles it on Jack's shoulder. His shoulder protests the movement, and he'd venture Jack has bruises where Sam's touching, too, but he leans into the supportive touch. "I know. Believe me, Jack... I wish I didn't. I wish I was... a better person, you know? That I could be a better example to you."

"What do you mean? You're a great example!" He lurches forward, hands reaching, tentative and uncertain. Finally, he lets them fall.

Sam shrugs, shakes his head. "I wish I could show you better how to love yourself. But I can't. It's something _I_ have a hard time with. I wish you could hear me tell you how amazing it is that you are who you are and  _believe_ it, you know? But it's not that easy. It's something you have to fight for, but it's not as easy as fighting with your fists or with a knife or a gun."

Jack snorts. "Yeah, because that's easy."

Sam smiles, and when Jack sees it, he returns it with a mischievous glint. "Okay, that's true. But I mean it. It's tougher. That's why people are how they are. It's why we have hands and voices. So we can support each other when we need it, and encourage when we can. I'm sorry I haven't been around lately. You deserve better."

Jack looks down, mutters. "S'okay. You're worried about Dean."

"But I'm worried about you, too. If you don't mind learning from an old man, let's spar together tomorrow. I've always been the one being taught... I kinda feel like it'd be nice to teach for once."

"I mean, if you want..."

"I do! Let's do it. You'll have to go easy on me. I'm old."

"You're not old!"

"And you're younger than you look. You're an inspiration to all of us here, Jack. You remind us to be kind, and dedicated, and ambitious. Be kind to yourself, too, if you can. It takes practice, like everything."

Jack frowns, and Sam can't help mirroring it. "What about you, then? You're not... kind to yourself."

Sam huffs out a dry laugh before he can think better. "I'm really good at giving advice. Not so good at practicing what I preach."

Jack nods, slowly. "I see. But... that's why people are how they are, right? To support each other. I... I can remind you, Sam, if you remind me."

Sam swallows hard at the bitter rush of relief. He blinks back tears.

God, it's tough to be here like this. It's tough to face Nick even though he knows Lucifer is gone from him. The fear and shame claw him from rest every time. And he feels like  _shit_ leaning on Jack emotionally, as if Jack doesn't have enough to deal with. He needs to do better,  _be_ better. "I'm sorry. You... you have a lot to worry about, Jack, and—"

"Be patient with yourself," Jack says quietly.

Sam forces his lips to turn up. "Jack...." But then he sighs, lets go of as much of the fear and tension as he can. The tears sting his eyes again. "I'll try. It's hard."

Jack nods, slow and solemn. "Being... human is very hard, I think."

Sam laughs. "You hit that one right on the nose."

"But it can be beautiful, too, I think."

"You're pretty wise, you know that?" Sam leans back against the books. The spines dig into the raw bruises and scraped from being thrown into his umpteenth wall. Honestly, Sam should be saying prayers to whatever saint or angel governs spinal integrity, because at this point, the fact that he can walk is a heck of a lot more than luck.

"I have some pretty wise teachers, I guess." Jack closes his eyes for a moment. "I'm tired."

"Me, too."

Both of them nearly jump out of their skin with a gritty voice chimes in, deadpan, "Me, too."

Castiel is carrying a platter of some sort with three mugs. He settles down on the floor slowly and carefully. "I brought... cocoa. I haven't had the pleasure of trying it as a human, but I've heard that it is supposed to be pleasing. Maggie bought it on our last supply run. And several bags of..." at this, he frowns, staring down balefully at the platter and its steaming mugs. "Colorful marshmallows."

Sam laughs outright. "Thanks, Cas. Colorful marshmallows." He takes a mug, passes it to Jack—then another to Cas. Finally, he lifts up the last one. I'll drink to that."

He awkwardly bumps mugs with both of the people sitting on the floor with him and then takes an appreciative gulp of the warm beverage. Its heat makes his fingertips tingle and it nearly scalds the roof of his mouth before he swallows it, but he sighs. "That's some damn good cocoa, Cas."

Jack takes a tentative sip and lights up like a Christmas tree. "This is delicious!"

Cas nods and ducks his head. "I consulted Google to find the best method of preparation. Milk is better than water, apparently, and—"

Sam smiles, reaching out a hand. "Thank you. For everything."

Cas shakes his head. "Thank _you_ , again. For today."

Sam is about to respond, but Jack pipes up before he can. "That's what we do. We were just talking about it. We support each other."

Sam isn't sure if he's ever seen Castiel smile so warmly. "You're right. We do."

Sitting on the floor of the bunker library, cocooned in darkness, the three of them sip quietly at their cocoa with its garishly colored marshmallows. It's not bad, all things considered.

**Author's Note:**

> This pretty much tumbled out of my brain, unedited, right after the episode finished airing. The episode was amazing, but I was aching for a bit of comfort for all these hurting, tired boys. I hope this brings you comfort! I know writing it did for me. Any thoughts would be treasured! As always, I will probably end up posting more episode tags on [Tumblr](http://semirahrose.tumblr.com/tagged/tumblr-fic) that I don't post here. Any thoughts would be greatly appreciated!


End file.
